


Birthday Sex

by groaninlynch (orphan_account)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Riding, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-06
Updated: 2012-10-06
Packaged: 2017-11-15 17:41:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/529909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/groaninlynch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's Sam's 25th birthday and Dean, like the awesome big bro he is, has sent Sam a hooker.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Birthday Sex

**Author's Note:**

> my first ever attempt at porn. i apologize now for the inaccuracies.

Sam is laying on his couch for a post-party nap when his intercom buzzes. Thinking it’s Dean or his mom or something who might’ve left a jacket, he grudgingly sits up, stretching until his shoulders pop. The buzz sounds again as he shuffles over.

“Alright, alright,” he mutters as he presses the button to answer. “Hello?”

“Delivery for Sam Winchester,” a male voice comes.

Delivery? Sam glances at the clock on the wall. It’s almost 10 PM; why would there be a delivery this late? Sam figures it must be a hurried gift on Bobby’s part as he says, “Come on up,” and buzzes the guy in.

Sam smooths his hair down and gets himself a glass of orange juice, wondering what could be being delivered A couple minutes later – Sam lives on the third floor – there’s a knock at his door.

“Sam Winchester?” the owner of the voice asks as Sam opens the door. The first thing Sam notices is he’s short, unusually so even when compared to himself. The second are his eyes, an odd honey brown. The this is his easy, almost predatory smile.

“Yeah, hi.” Sam smiles, taking a sip of OJ. “Got something for me?”

“Just myself,” he replies, shouldering past Sam into the apartment, He gives a low whistle. “Nice digs, kid.”

Sam balks. “Um, I’m sorry, but you can’t just –”

“Oh, I  _can_  just,” the guy responds, walking back to where Sam still stands by the door. The guy closes the door, backs Sam up into it. “And I  _did_  just.”

And then he pulls Sam down into a kiss.

It takes Sam a moment to catch up, but by the time he does, the guy has already pulled away and gone over to the couch, plopping down like he belongs there.

“You…” Sam touches his mouth. “Who are you?”

“I’m the escort your brother paid for,” he says, grinning, slinging his arms around the back of the couch.

He’s only just turned 25 and Sam fears he’s already going to die from a heart attack.

“ _Dean?_ ”

He snaps his fingers. “That’s the one!”

“Dammit,” Sam mutters, leaning back against the door. “Why?”

“Said it was your birthday, I think. Happy birthday. How old’re ya?”

“Twenty-five,” Sam replies distractedly, because that’s just like Dean. To order him a fucking  _escort_  for his birthday. He shoulda known, really, when all he got from Dean was a plaid shirt and a slap on the back. Sam pushes his hand through his hair and sighs.

“Look, um…” Sam pauses. “Sorry, I don’t think I caught your name.”

“That’s ‘cause I didn’t tell ya,” the guy chirps. “You can call me Angel.”

Sam raises an eyebrow. “Not your real name, I’m guessing.”

Angel fakes being wounded. “Don’t I look like an angel sent from above?”

Sam rolls his eyes but continues, “Anyway, I think you should go. This was obviously some stupid practical joke on my brother’s part.”

“Not with the money he shelled out, it isn’t.”

Sam almost smacks his forehead. “Dean, you dumb fuck.”

“Seconded.”

Sam glares at Angel, sighs again. “How – how long did he … pay … you for?” he asks wearily.

Angel laughs, a low, temptuous sound. “Oh, Sam. Unlike my counterparts, I charge a flat rate and stay ‘til I’m either bored or kicked out.”

Sam doesn’t keep the hope out of his voice when he asks, “Then can I just kick you out now?”

Angel gets up from the couch, shrugs. “Fine, if you really want. I’ve already been paid so that’s no prob. However…” He trails off, standing in front of Sam, giving him a deliberate once-over. “It would kinda be waste, wouldn’t it?”

Angel steps closer and takes the glass Sam’s still holding out of his hand, puts it on the nearby table. Then he places a hand on Sam’s bare arm, drags his hand down the length of it light enough to give Sam goosebumps.

“I’m not even gay,” Sam blurts.

“Your brother seems to think otherwise,” Angel snickers. “And anyway, that’s irrelevant.”

“ _How_ —”

“Tell me, Sam,” Angel interrupts, “are you seeing anyone right now?”

“Um. No.”

“Then there’s no problem. Listen kid, you just gotta think of it like this: sex is sex. Pleasure is pleasure; getting off is getting off. That’s all there is to it.” Angel smirks and wraps his arms around Sam’s neck, practically standing on his tip toes. His eyes flicker to Sam’s mouth and he murmurs, “We gonna do this?”

Sam almost immediately says no, because what kind of self-respecting man has sex with a hooker? It’s fucking ridiculous. Obscene even. And like he said, he’s not gay. It’s obviously a bad idea. There’s nothing to even think about. He should kick this “Angel” guy out right now.

Except… Except there’s – something. Something big and nagging enough to make him second guess that, to make him hesitate. Sam vaguely thinks that that ‘something’ is plain old horniness because, to be frank, he hasn’t gotten laid in months. But whatever it is, it’s enough to make him say yes.

Sam grips Angel’s sides and pulls him forward, their mouths meeting. Angel gives a pleased hum as he threads his fingers through Sam’s hair. Sam sighs a breath against Angel’s cheek when they part for a moment before reconnecting with a fervor. And Angel is one hell of a kisser, running his tongue over Sam’s bottom lip before biting there, sucking at his top lip, grinding against Sam’s hips all the while.

Suddenly Angel pulls back, a little breathless. Only a little. “Is this okay? I forgot to ask what was off-limits.”

After a pause, Sam can’t help but huff a laugh. “I could smack you right now.”

Angel smirks. “Whatever floats your boat, baby.”

And Sam doesn’t know why, is actually a little embarrassed by it, but he growls at that, low and deep in his throat. Which seems to appeal to Angel, because he grinds hard against Sam and demands, “Bed.” So Sam leads him there, practically pushes him down before climbing on top of him.

“Shirt,” Sam is commanded while Angel sheds his own. Sam pulls his t-shirt off, undershirt following, tossing them both haphazardly onto the floor.

The first thing Sam makes sure to do is to mess up Angel’s perfectly coiffed golden hair. He runs his fingers through it again and again as he pushes his tongue into Angel’s mouth. Angel arches up, digs his fingernails into Sam’s heated back, just hard enough for it to teeter on the edge of painful, causing Sam to moan shamelessly. He flips them over, kissing along Angel’s neck, his collarbone.

Angel smiles down at him, and it actually looks a little sweet and honest as he settles over Sam’s hips. Then he rubs his ass roughly, slowly against Sam’s increasingly hard dick, and the friction made by their jeans makes Sam bite into his lip.

“Fuck,” Sam breathes.

“Soon,” Angel purrs, sliding his hands up and down Sam’s chest. He leans over, nips at Sam’s earlobe as he starts to undo Sam’s jeans.

It’s not until Angel’s got his hand on Sam’s dick that Sam sort of jolts out of a haze. “Whoa,” he says, “what’re you doing.”

And Sam doesn’t know why it’s almost surprising when he does, but Angel immediately backs off. “Nothing you don’t want me to do, Sam.” He lightly runs his fingers across Sam’s stomach, asks quietly, “Whaddya want me to do?” Leans closer so that his breath his hot on Sam’s mouth, murmurs, “Whaddya wanna do to me?” before licking along Sam’s top lip.

Sam closes his eyes against Angel’s imploring expression and thinks. Thinks about what he likes his girlfriends doing, what he wouldn’t mind a guy doing to him. It takes a minute for him to get this thoughts straight because Angel keeps nipping and licking and kissing; keeps tempting.

Finally: “I want you. On top of me.”

Angel quits his oral harassment for a second to knit his eyebrows together, giving Sam a confused smile. “Thought I’d already conquered Mount Sam,” he teases, giving another full push against Sam’s groin, eliciting a body-wracking shudder because the pressure is that fucking much.

He can hardly speak, chokes out, “No— I mean…” He swallows through the thickness in his throat, digs his fingertips into the soft skin above Angel’s jeans.

“Oh,” Angel says. “ _Oh_. You mean, you want me,” and he presses his mouth against Sam’s ear to whisper, “to  _ride_  your big” – a kiss – “hard” – a nip – “ _lea_ king cock.” He swipes his tongue along the shell of his ear and pulls away.

Sam’s face is bright, bright red. But he sighs a “Fuck, yes.”

“Your wish is my command, monsieur.” His hand hovers over Sam’s zipper again. “Mother, may I?”

“Dear god do not mention my mother right now,” Sam mutters, gives him the go ahead.

Angel snorts as Sam lifts his hips so he can tug at the pants, pulling them off Sam’s legs, revealing his horribly big erection and tossing them onto the floor to join their shirts. He whips off Sam’s boxers and actually says “Damn!” a bit too loudly.

“ _What?_ ”

“You’re packin’, kid.” His hand gravitates toward it, but he stops, doesn’t touch; and seems really sorry about that.

Sam almost hides his face in his hands. He’s not all that awkward about his body, but the way Angel is looking at him is putting him off for some reason. Like Sam’s this really delicious candy that he can’t wait to taste.

Angel starts at his own jeans, not exactly tearing them off but not taking too long about it. When he’s finally naked, Sam has to keep himself from staring, even though Angel sure is unabashedly taking Sam in. Because holy fuck. This is a dude’s dick.

There is a naked dude. On top of Sam. Holy  _fuck_.

“Hey.” Angel snaps his fingers in front of Sam’s face. “This ain’t no time to be havin’ a gay crisis. Wanna take a rain check on that?”

Sam starts to say something – what, he doesn’t know, but then Angel his reaching his hand behind himself, eyes closed. He braces his other hand on Sam’s stomach and lets out a soft moan. Being uneducated in the ways of gay sex, Sam goes ahead and asks what he’s doing.

Angel laughs, though it’s strained. His eyes are still closed. “Can’t just stick myself on there.”

At last Sam catches up when Angel jerks his hips slightly.  _Oh. Okay. Cool. I’ve got a naked dude fingering himself on top of me. This is a totally normal birthday._

Well.

Sam flips them back over, Angel giving a surprised sound. “What?” Angel asks, showing both his hands like Sam’s an angry bear that’s about to attack.

“Let me.”

Angel looks at him sideways. “Let you…”

Sam slides a hand down Angel’s leg, toward that place when Sam never thought he’d touch on himself, let alone another guy.

“You wanna finger me?” Angel asks incredulously.

And it’s not that Sam particularly  _wants_  to stick his fingers up this guy’s ass. It just sort of seems – courteous? Since he’s going to be the one doing the fucking.

Is there such thing as courtesy in sex?

Sam finds the hole, and it’s wet and hot and really weird, and pushes in with one finger. Sam’s not really sure how he’s supposed to do this, hasn’t even ever done it to a girl, so he just starts pulling out, pushing back in, slowly then quickly then slow again. He adds his middle finger into the rhythm, unsure of the stopping point, what else he should do.

Angel grips the sheets and moans. “Shit,” he sighs. “Sure you’ve never done this before?” He pulls Sam down into a breathy kiss.

“Tell me what to do.”

Angel huffs, smiling, putting his head back against the pillows. Sam licks a slow stripe along his neck as Angel mumbles out something about the prostate, getting his fingers in the right place.

Sam figures he’s got it when Angel puts a hand up to his own mouth and bites.

“Oh, okay, okay,” Angel pants as Sam keeps on touching there, making him squirm. “G-get outta me. I’m about to come right here, sweet Jesus.”

So he does. But slowly, spreading his fingers wide in him, really getting Angel open, before taking them out completely. Angel runs his hands through his own hair before he makes them turn over again.

He reaches down the side of the bed, gets his jeans and pulls out a condom, rips that shit open with his teeth. “Ready for this, kid?”

Sam doesn’t think before he runs his fingers along the length of Angel’s erection in response.

“Okay! Alright. Let’s… okay.” He slips the condom over Sam’s dick, making a low sound of appreciation to himself. Sam puts his hands on Angel’s sides, helping him position himself.

And then, carefully, he slides into place, all the way down, all at once.

Sam isn’t sure why this feels so incredible. It, once again, is probably due to the fact that he’s been best friends with just his hand these past few months, but  _god_.

“Shit,” says Angel as he comes up, goes back down, hands grasping at Sam’s chest. He starts picking up the pace, taking Sam in all the way each time, adding in little swivels of his hips. Angel throws his head back, arches his back, bites his lip, nails digging tiny crescents into Sam’s burning skin.

When Sam bucks up to meet him, Angel actually cries out.

So he does it again.

And again, and again, and again –

and then they’re going so fast and Sam is slamming up into Angel while Angel is pushing down into Sam and they’re both breathing hard and letting out strings of swears and the odd compliment to one another like “You’re so fucking hot” and Sam actually asks at one point why it was so good to which Angel replies with a particularly rough grind downward and a devilish smirk which Sam counters with scratching his nails down Angel’s back and it’s almost too much until at last it is –

and Sam comes with a shout, Angel following right after with almost a choked sob.

Angel rolls off of Sam, lays plastered to his side after Sam ties up the condom and throws it into the bedside bin. They’re both covered in sweat, Sam in cum, and it’s absolutely disgusting but all Sam wants to do is sleep because that was one hell of an orgasm.

“Holy shit,” Angel breathes out.

“I know,” Sam mutters.

“I should be paying  _you_.”

Sam laughs. He looks at Angel. “Are you leaving?”

“Do you want me to leave?”

“Not really.”

“Me neither.”

Sam smiles. “I’m gonna go shower.”

“Need help?”

“Ha-ha.” Sam stands up, cracks his back. “Don’t steal out of my wallet.”

“Kid, the rates I charge mean I don’t have to.”

“Right,” Sam mumbles. “I should maybe thank Dean.”

“Or not.”

“Yeah, probably not.”

Angel reclines on the bed, wipes at his forehead with a hand. “Don’t take too long. I’m fucking gross.”

Sam hesitates in the doorway. “Hey.”

“Uh, hi?”

“If you tell me your real name you can shower with me.”

“I don’t see why you wouldn’t let me shower with you anyway. We kinda did just have the most mind-blowing sex ever.”

Sam shrugs. “I just feel too crowded with that. But I can make an exception.”

“I really, really shouldn’t.”

“We can have mind-blowing  _shower_  sex.”

“Gabriel.”

“Ha! Clever hooker name then.”

“I am not a hooker, I am an escort,” Gabriel huffs without any real conviction as he stands up. “Now can we go please. This sweat is drying into a second layer of skin, and I want more sex, dammit.”

Sam snorts. “Yeah, okay.”

Gabriel catches Sam’s hand before he walks out. “Hey,” he says now.

“Hi,” Sam grins.

“Happy birthday, Sammy.”


End file.
